


we're not so starry-eyed anymore

by thatsparrow



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Campaign 05: A Crown of Candy, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Pre-Canon, Spoilers: Episode 9 - Safe Harbor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24677173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsparrow/pseuds/thatsparrow
Summary: The tears are still sticky on Caramelinda's cheeks when Amethar proposes."Look, I know this isn't what you wanted," he says, knelt down before her in his bloodstained armor, a messy spray of green sap drying across his breastplate. "It's not what I—" he exhales, heavy. "Fuck. I thought I'd be walking Laz down the aisle, not taking her place at the altar."[minor spoilers for episode 9: safe harbor]
Relationships: Amethar Rocks/Caramelinda Rocks, Caramelinda Rocks/Lazuli Rocks
Comments: 7
Kudos: 66





	we're not so starry-eyed anymore

**Author's Note:**

> title from "make you better" by the decemberists

The tears are still sticky on Caramelinda's cheeks when Amethar proposes.

"Look, I know this isn't what you wanted," he says, knelt down before her in his bloodstained armor, a messy spray of green sap drying across his breastplate. "It's not what I—" he exhales, heavy. "Fuck. I thought I'd be walking Laz down the aisle, not taking her place at the altar."

 _Taking her place_. Caramelinda blinks her eyes closed, feeling fresh tears stinging hot against her lashes as she hides in the black behind her eyelids. Maybe if she keeps them closed long enough, she can imagine a new world where Lazuli is still alive.

"I'm sorry." Amethar's voice has gone tight and quiet. Fragile, almost. "I didn't mean it like that. I know I'm not—replacing her, or anything. No one could."

"No," Caramelinda says, opening her eyes. She's surprised at how rough the word sounds, how grief has turned her throat sandpaper-raw. "No one will ever come close."

"I know."

"I love—I _loved_ her. I don't—" she cuts herself off, leaves him to fill in the rest. _I don't love you. I don't want to marry you. I don't even_ know _you._

"I understand." He tries out a smile, but it doesn't quite land. Falls crooked like a deflating balloon. "Believe it or not, I do have some idea of what you're going through." His expression shifts a little as he gives her a steady look, and Caramelinda sees some of the soldier in him, the steel-sharp resolve. "She may not have been my partner, but I did love her, too."

Guilt rises fast in her chest. It's so easy to linger in the shadow of her own grief that Caramelinda forgets she's not alone in her loss. "I didn't mean—"

"It's okay. You're hurting—I don't blame you for that. Hell, Laz isn't even in the ground yet and we're—" Amethar cuts off and laughs a little, harsh and humorless. "Fucking politics, you know? 'Heavens forbid we lose the alliance, too,' like that's the most important thing here." He rubs at his jaw, his hands restless. "I am sorry, though, that this is being asked of you. Bulb knows you deserve better."

 _Of you_ , he says. Not, _of us_. Pain aplenty weighing heavy on his own shoulders, but he won't shy away from his new role as crown prince, however chafing it might be. For all the stories she'd heard from Lazuli, the rumors that flurried through Candia like spun sugar— _Amethar the reckless, Amethar the stubborn, Amethar the foolhardy_ —Caramelinda finds that they don't entirely square up with the man kneeling in front of her. His sister stolen from him in battle and any notions of love or romance stripped away by the obligation of an arranged marriage, and yet his main concern remains for _her_.

 _Amethar the noble_ , she thinks. _Amethar the strong._

"It's okay," she says, settling a hand on his shoulder and gesturing for him to stand. "It'll be okay. I always knew my marriage would likely be a political one. Falling in love with Lazuli—" she pauses, swallowing around the thorny shape of Lazuli's name in her throat, "—that was luck, more than expectation. A fluke, albeit a very beautiful one." She's still wearing Lazuli's ring, a simple silver-stone band around her finger. "Maybe I should have known better than to trust in such good fortune." 

Amethar hesitates for a moment, then reaches out a hand to take hers. His palm is warm and callused against her skin, his fingers broad and blunt where Lazuli's had been sure and slender. Still, there's a reassurance to his touch.

"I don't know how to be a husband," he says, slow. "Let alone how to be a good one, but I do promise that I'll always be loyal to you and faithful to our marriage. Whatever might happen, so long as I live, I pledge myself to you as your partner and ally." He gives her that bashful, sideways smile that she'll come to know well. "And as your friend, for whatever that's worth."

_Amethar the honorable._

"I thought we were meant to exchange vows at the wedding," Caramelinda says, teasing a little if only to hide her surprise at his earnestness. "I appreciate it, but you don't have to say all that for my sake. It's a political marriage; I know what that entails." 

"I said it because I meant it, Caramelinda." It's the first time he's said her name, low and warm in a way that brings a slight flush to her cheeks. "I'll say it all again up at the altar, too, but it's important to me that you know where I stand, if we're going to do this. Politics or no, I'm not going to be your husband in name only while the rest of Calorum thinks you're being played for a fool. I know I could never fill Laz's shoes, but that doesn't mean I won't try."

He runs a thumb over the back of her knuckles, pausing briefly before brushing across the ring she'd been given by Lazuli. What does he think when he sees it? There's no mistaking the sincerity of his words, but neither can Caramelinda ignore the bruising weight of Lazuli's absence between them. Him missing a sister and her missing a fiancée and what are either of them supposed to do when their very relationship is a reminder that she's gone? When she looks up from their joined hands, she sees that Amethar's cheeks are wet with tears.

"It should have been me," Amethar says when he notices her watching him. "Bulb, I _wish_ it had been me. I don't know how to do this—any of it—without her."

"Me neither." _Promise me that you'll come back_ , Caramelinda had said to Lazuli the last time they were together, Lazuli's armor buckled over her robes as she'd readied to leave for the front. _Promise me that you'll come back_ , but Lazuli had just kissed her, sure and steady, and Caramelinda had taken that as its own sort of vow. She should have known better, though; Lazuli was always so careful with her words that her silence was its own answer.

 _Promise me that you'll come back_ —but she hadn't. And so now here Caramelinda is, alone for all that Amethar is with her, both of them silent in their mourning. She would offer him comfort if she had the words, but she doesn't even know what balm to apply to her own wounds. Still, if they can't absolve each other of their grief, perhaps they can lighten the burden by carrying it together.

"We don't have to decide or plan or do anything at the moment, right?" Caramelinda says. "I'm sure there will be plenty of that in the days ahead, enough so that there's no use worrying about it now. But we do have some time—maybe to talk, if you'd like?"

"Yeah," Amethar says, his voice rough and raw-edged. "That sounds alright."

It's then that Caramelinda realizes they're still holding hands. She lets go, feeling a little sheepish before reminding herself that it's nothing to feel guilty over. He is to be her husband, after all. Her tent isn't particularly large, but she leads him over to two floor cushions before pouring each of them glasses of sugared fruit wine.

"To Lazuli," she says, raising her glass in a toast.

"To Laz," Amethar echoes. They drink, Amethar nearly to the bottom of his cup. He wipes his mouth and gives her a curious look. "Is that what you wanted to talk about? Lazuli?"

Caramelinda nods and takes another careful sip. "I thought it might help, but if you don't want to—" 

"No, no, it's okay. I'd like that, actually. It'd be nice to remember her, not just—what happened at the end."

The wine goes a little sour on her tongue. They hadn't wanted to let Caramelinda see her body, wouldn't even let her through into Lazuli's tent until she'd shouted and swore and vowed to call forth the power of the Bulb to blast them all into the heavens if they wouldn't let her go. Inside, Lazuli had been laid out on her bed, still as stone. They'd pulled the arrows free and done their best to patch the wounds, but lapis-blue blood had come away on Caramelinda's skin as she'd reached for Lazuli's hands, as she'd pressed her lips to Lazuli's cheeks. She doesn't remember how long she'd stayed kneeling on the floor, but she does remember that her legs were numb by the time she was helped to her feet and carried from the tent.

No, she doesn't want that moment to be all she remembers of Lazuli, either.

"What was she like when you were younger?" Caramelinda asks, taking a long pull from the glass to swallow down her pain. "I can't picture her as any age other than when we met."

Amethar smiles wide and his whole face seems to shift, turning on a coin from stoic to something easy and boyish, unreserved and sunshine-bright. "Man, she was _such_ a big sister. You know that serious expression she used to have, but picture it on the face of a teenager. We used to joke that she was a grown-up stuck in the body of a kid, but then she'd pull some _devious_ fucking prank out of nowhere. But that was her, you know? So fucking smart and sure of herself, and then this hidden streak of chaos running underneath. She'd tell you to learn your Candian history and meanwhile you don't notice that she'd cast an illusion switching the doors and the windows, or enchanting pieces of chalk to explode if you get the wrong answer. More of a wild card than I think she let on with most folks, but I loved that about her. A one-woman force of nature for as long as I can remember."

Caramelinda laughs a little, both at the memory and the look of nostalgia on Amethar's face. "I wish I'd known her, then. Not that she didn't have moments of levity, but I think her sense of responsibility had worn most of it out of her by the time we met."

"Well, hey, I've got plenty of stories," Amethar says. "You know, if you want."

She nods, and together, they spend the rest of the evening spinning Lazuli back to life with their words and memories, a shadow blurred a little hazy by wine, but built of too much joy and laughter for either of them to mourn. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is definitely a little au-ish in terms of the timeline (re: lazuli dying and amethar and caramelinda's betrothal), but I really liked the idea of the two of them brought together by political need and building a relationship based on helping each other work through their grief


End file.
